10pm, dark and stormy.
Monday, 1 August 2017
Sellaphix Apothecary

The shop was closed and rain was beating against the front window panes, a barrage in sheets. The door rattled in its frame, and outside the wooden scarab sign swung wildly. Everything would hold, though. The worst of England's storms was no match for this very old building. The structure and the shop inside had survived these generations and would weather much worse.

The whole shop was dark except for the alcove behind the front counter. Within, a wiry witch picked crispy leaves from a dried sprig of potent herb. One by one, in an orderly deft fashion, she pricked a leaf from it's branch and set it down in a wide earthen bowl. When a stalk was stripped, it went in a tiny tinder pile, and she picked up the next full sprig.

It was a simple task. Quiet, fragrant, soothing, and tactile. A storm soaked the city, but here it was warm and still. Her family's fox's den. Rafe was away, and Figaro couldn't have left fast enough. She would protect her Francis. He should spend time with friends and enjoy his time at Hogwarts. So for now, and for awhile, it was and would be only her. The world swirled angrily around her, but for tonight, she could revel in this storm and pick her fragrant fronds.

---

A shadow on the street outside, and Zelda lifted her gaze. A flash of lighting. Late for a visitor. She smiled. Time to batten down the hatches.

This was the first proper assignment Raine had been given to do by herself. Of course...it wasn't really a proper assignment, more like something nobody else wanted to do but had to be done for Carstairs' dreaded paperwork reasons. Luckily she had slipped out of her official robes before heading down to Knockturn. Grace had advised her to wear plainclothes in this area, whenever possible. It attracted less attention and helped lower guards.

Which was important, because Sellaphix Apothecary already had a record.

The rain was coming down like nothing else this evening. Raine had charmed herself an umbrella but it had done little to keep her dry - insomuch that by the time she pushed through the door into the shop, the witch was soaked. She shivered and began to unbutton her coat.

"Good evening!"  Raine managed before casting a drying spell on herself and pushing her red curls out of her eyes to have a better look at the place. So this was where Figaro's mother worked. Her gaze shifted to the witch whose task she had interrupted.

How to approach this? "Hello. I'm Raine Almasy. One of Fig's old classmates?"

Zelda scoffed! To look upon this witch - barely grown - with her shiny black shoes and caped navy coat and damp red hair - this was the devil who'd come knocking? A bad omen if she ever saw one. Pretty things don't just come in from the dark.

"I recognize you." Zelda said, looking back down to her work.  Raine and Figaro had been paired in the TetraWizard Tournament two years ago. Just students playing games for points. "Yes. Raine Almasy. I remember you."

There wasn't much reason for someone that looked like Raine Almasy to be in Knockturn Ally at this time of day, on this kind of night. Zelda knew very little about her other than Figaro held a candle for her at one point, and that she was from the Almasy family. The former put her in varied but unimpressive company, but the latter a much darker fellowship. The Sellaphixes had done right by staying well away from any of Ira Almasy's business, as lucrative as it would have been to accept and how costly it had been to decline.

The twigs now picked bare, Zelda drew a large knife from the drawer. Still not looking at the visitor, she began slowly chopping the stacks crisp dry leaves into slivers.

"And I'm trying to remember, what did that witch end up doing with herself?"

Why did she bother introducing herself anymore? She was already wearing an invisible sign, which read: I'm Raine Almasy! Yes, THAT Almasy!

But Zelda had better reason to recognise her as Fig's friend, so she tried not to read too much into this initial response. Raine approached the counter and reached into her coat pockets to retrieve a sheaf of parchment, followed by a black quill. These had mercifully remained dry. One of very few mercies she would receive today, if the older woman's greeting was anything to go by.

            "And I'm trying to remember, what did that witch end up doing with herself?"
"What she always dreamed of." Raine replied dryly and retrieved her Ministry trainee badge to place on the table.

"I'm just here to do a routine check of your apothecary on behalf of our Magical Law Enforcement team," she glanced down at her papers to ensure they were the right ones, "And then we'll be out of your hair for another few months."

Zelda's steady knife stopped short, and the older witch raised her eyes again to the bright young thing in the patina'd apothecary. Another flash of lighting followed swiftly by a roll of thunder. The storm was right on top of them now.

Routine. Zelda scoffed again, but this time more off-her-foot. There had never been anything routine about the Aurors in her business, not since the explosion, not since Rafe. Even though the case was closed and done, and everyone should have been satisfied, there was just something about her livelihood they just couldn't sit with, could they?

And Zelda didn't do them any peace of mind.

"I know what this is."

Chop. Chop. Chop.

"All those poor dead people. What was the count? Sixty? Quite the tragedy."

Chop. Chop. Chop.

"All those dead people and they've sent the coffee witch?"

Figaro was only 18 and Miss Almasy here couldn't be much older than that. What a game.

"Seventy-six."[1] Raine corrected in a perfunctory voice, avoiding Zelda's gaze by scribbling in the section of her parchment that verified the proprietor was on the premises for the check. "Seventy-six poor dead people." She knew how many lives Ira had been responsible for taking, more or less, for each of her dramas.

It was the kind of thing Raine committed to memory.

But she doubted that Zelda was genuinely interested in how many people died. The only thing the witch seemed interested in was in chopping... what was that? Some herb.

            "All those dead people and they've sent the coffee witch?"

"I don't know what to tell you," the younger of them looked up from her paperwork, fiery eyebrows raised. "I must make a very good cup of coffee. Do you want to start out here or in the back?"

1.	Estimated up to eighty on 15th December, Awakening Beauty.

Oh, that was nice. The half-Auror was pretending there was any choice in the matter. Upstairs first, downstairs first, how do you take your harassment?

Zelda set down her knife quietly and picked up her wand. Switch, flick, and the seven locks on the front door started latching closed in sequence. Click. Clank. Twing. Snap. Slide. Ch-chick. Thunk.

"Would hate to be disturbed," she said with a mocking concern. She came out, finally, from behind her counter, and approached Almasy with an open hand.

"I'll see that that warrant now."

Zelda hand't heard the latest count. She had heard they were still trying to track down all the errant threads of contamination and she'd heard a rumor the source hadn't been stoppered. It was hard to tell without a body, she'd heard, the providence of the poisoning. Might be a good long while before anyone could feel confident this was cleaned. And perhaps a while longer before this 'security theatre' had run its course.

Raine only just stopped herself from looking over her shoulder as the locks snapped shut. That wasn't reassuring. Rationally, she knew that her whereabouts were common knowledge on level two so she wasn't in any real danger from Zelda Sellaphix. On an instinctive level however - the same aspect of herself that speaks in the voices of Ignan Storm or Ira Almasy - she took more careful note of her surroundings.

Room to move. Maybe not for a human but more than enough for her animagus form if she wanted to start a quick escape.

She casually slipped one hand into her pocket to test the handle of her wand, while handing the sheaf of papers to Zelda. "We need your signature at the end," Raine added in a helpful voice.

"How is Figaro, by the way?" she hadn't seen her Hufflepuff classmate since forever, and he was common ground.

Zelda snapped the parchment away and turned on her heel to return to the counter, this time staying with her back to Almasy. She skimmed over it. It was in order - of course it was - and so she inked a quill and whipped her signature on the dashed line with overly grand flourish.

She left the warrant on the counter and turned to face Almasy. "Pursuing a respectable trade," she replied. He was starting at the bottom at the Daily Prophet. Journalists were, on the general, obnoxious and so was her boy. Active, curious, talkative. If he was interested, he was a hard worker. She was sure he'd do well.

Then she held out the warrant. And shrugged. "I haven't got all night."

Raine wished she had brought another trainee along, if only so that they could exchange raised eyebrows with one another. She didn't actually think anything was the matter with the apothecary but Zelda Sellaphix definitely acted like somebody who had something to hide! It kind of made her miss Figaro, who never seemed like he was hiding ulterior motives. Any harmful ones anyway.

"Thanks." Raine accepted the warrant, rolling it back up and sticking it into her pocket. "I'm happy to hear Fig is... getting on in the world," she commented awkwardly. Hopefully it didn't sound like she was insulting Zelda's occupation.

Another rumble of thunder outside. She looked around the shop, its many wares - somehow more mysterious and oblique here than ever on the shelves at Hogwarts. "Where did you say you'd prefer to start?"

Zelda stood up from the counter and wordlessly led the way to the back. The 'back' was little more than a tight closet, a small door to the back alley, and steep stairs to the cellar. Even Madam Sellaphix had to duck her head.

It was an old cellar and the air was cool and wet. Casks were bound up tight and kept off the floor, work benches and cauldrons saw daily use, and there was a very involved sink and washing station. Bottles were tucked away in a honeycomb of nooks, and giant clay coffers were stoppered with giant corks.

Zelda stood at the door with her arms crossed. "Do be careful. There are spiders."

            "Do be careful. There are spiders."

The witch wasn't a liar: there were indeed spiders. Raine conducted the rest of her survey in diligent silence and tried not to think about how intensely creepy Zelda Sellaphix could be. Not as creepy as Aunt Ira or Layton but she certainly gave a creepy reception, as the parent of a peer. It almost made her feel bad for Figaro but he seemed mentally stable enough not to warrant genuine pity.

Arachnids aside, the apothecary was in legal order.


"Thank you for cooperating Mrs Sellaphix." Raine didn't attempt to shake the older witch's hands as they parted at the doorway, after the storm had at last subsided. "You'll hear from us quite soon." Or rather, from someone who was decidedly not Raine! If she ever needed something from an apothecary, she decided that it would be better to visit elsewhere.

Before Raine Almasy could exit, the front door shut itself soundly at the quick command of Mrs. Sellaphix's wand. At the look from the young Auror, Zelda gave the smallest, most innocent shrug she could manage.

"So sorry. Quick thing."

There probably wasn't a thing one could say sweetly enough that would ease the foreboding of a shutting door. The juxtaposition could, in fact, be all the more ominous.

"You'll know Trevelyan. Let him know I'll see him at his next convenience." 

Jonas Trevelyan, he was one of the reasonable ones. At that, a sad thought crossed her mind - she'd forgotten for just one moment that this lethal little witch by name of Almasy was barely grown. She lifted her chin, then turned her back.

The door unlatched and the wind was enough to open it a crack.